Thursday, March 23, 2017

So, I'm sorry I missed last night. Our thermostat broke, and it's WEIRD how living in 60 degrees tires you out when you're not expecting it.

Also, I really need to wash my hair. (This is normally not a problem, but it was raining when I usually go to the pool, and then FREEZING in the house, and while I managed a shower, the hair was just not going to happen. I chose life.)

But no blog post last night leads us to tonight, which is THE RELEASE POST FOR BONFIRES!!

Yayayayayay!!!

So that's exciting--and without further ado, let us begin!

-- So, about Bonfires-- have you ever noticed how many shows feature middle-aged single men with precocious offspring as sheriffs in small towns? I've counted three--and I'm sure there are more.

Anyway--I was riffing on this concept (cause it's funny) and somebody said, "Hey. Write a real book with middle aged protagonists. They don't have to be sheriffs (although I made one of them a sheriff, just because that's where the idea started) but please. Someone our age. Someone who has to deal with real stuff and whose joints creak and who is running to catch up with his children. Just once I want to see a romance hero that looks like someone I could see across the table every day."

And that's where Bonfires came from. From the idea that our love lives aren't dead at forty or even fifty, and that there's still a lot of time in our lives to want a companion, a lover, and a friend.

So, folks--Bonfires. There will be a blog tour--and as soon as I have all the stops, I'll post them here so you can go see :-)

In the meantime--enjoy it!

Bonfiresby Amy Lane

Ten years ago Sheriff’s Deputy Aaron George lost his wife and moved to Colton, hoping growing up in a small town would be better for his children. He’s gotten to know his community, including Mr. Larkin, the bouncy, funny science teacher. But when Larx is dragged unwillingly into administration, he stops coaching the track team and starts running alone. Aaron—who thought life began and ended with his kids—is distracted by a glistening chest and a principal running on a dangerous road.

Larx has been living for his kids too—and for his students at Colton High. He’s not ready to be charmed by Aaron, but when they start running together, he comes to appreciate the deputy’s steadiness, humor, and complete understanding of Larx’s priorities. Children first, job second, his own interests a sad last.

It only takes one kiss for two men approaching fifty to start acting like teenagers in love, even amid all the responsibilities they shoulder. Then an act of violence puts their burgeoning relationship on hold. The adult responsibilities they’ve embraced are now instrumental in keeping their town from exploding. When things come to a head, they realize their newly forged family might be what keeps the world from spinning out of control.

So, Mate and the kids and I leave at 6:15, and arrive at last year's place at 6:25. It is empty.

Me: Uh oh.

Mate: Uh oh.

Both of us, in stereo: Is this where you guys rehearsed? Let me check my phone!

ZB: This isn't it.

Squish: It was some other place.

Me: What day is it?

Mate: Was it on Arcade?

Me: Wait--no. Seriously, what day is it? Are you guys San Juan Sings East or San Juan Sings West?

Mate: East.

ZoomBoy: No, West.

Me: Okay, so we're at Arcade and not Sunrise.

-- a brief geographical lesson here. According to Google maps, Arcade is 25 minutes away at this point, and Sunrise is maybe five. Keep this in mind...

Fifteen minutes later as we screech to a halt at a stoplight pretty close to our destination, ZoomBoy says, "It wasn't this far away from the school."

Mate and I: SHIT!!!

Me (finally looking at my calendar): Oh holy rockets, it's the 21st which makes you guys San Juan Sings East and we need to be BACK on Sunrise in 20 minutes.

Mate: It wasn't your fault.

Me: I asked him.

Mate: It wasn't your fault.

Me: I asked, East or West.

Mate: He corrected you.

Me: I never know the date. Ever.

Now, uh, keep in mind that this conversation is happening while Mate follows Google Maps or Siri or whoever BACK ACROSS TOWN to a place that is supposedly 25 minutes away.
We make it in 15.

The kids get out of the car and run to find their classes with 8 minutes to spare.

Mate and I barely manage to miss picking up the "Fucked up parents of the year" award by eight lousy minutes.
The kids make it to choir fairly untraumatized, but as penance for our lack of foresight, Mate and I end up with the parental seats of shame.

And Mate and I were, once again, reminded, that parenting is never the walk in the park you think you're taking, even when you're taking a walk in the park.

Oh...

And for your Chicken/Big T update...

Chicken called me today freaking out. She'd spun a 180 in the middle of an intersection when she hit the gas just right. Mate came from work and I came from home, and we met her at IHOP (where she'd parked.) Her dad took her car--just to make sure it was safe--and she got to drive his for a day. and I took her inside for chicken and waffles and heard the saga of how there was no goddamned coffee because her brother drank all of the creamer. We discussed ways to change this behavior without strangling him (because they are brother and sister, the strangling is an option most roommates don't explore) and she calmed down enough to drive to work.

She texted me when she got there--apparently she almost got hit by lightning as she was driving her father's car.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

For those of you who have read The Virgin Manny (and there's a surprising number of you) you may remember Sammy-- he was the fractious, hurt little boy that Channing needed a manny for at the beginning of the book.

Now, in Manny Get Your Guy, Sammy is seventeen, and he's got a little crush on Brandon, one of the MC's, but Brandon is in his twenties and, in short order, very actively pursuing Taylor, so Sammy had to wait until book three to get his story told.

Well, Sammy is sort of awesome, and he needed a weakness, so I literally went for blood and gave him anemia.

Nosebleeds, pallor, fainting spells--Sammy's got the full roster of symptoms, and he's resentful as hell and I really love researching this stuff. And then, as I'm researching it, I realize Sammy will probably need a blood transfusion since it's fairly severe (and he's got the rockin' health insurance) and I think, "Oh, damn! I haven't given blood in a while-- why haven't I done that?"

And then I remember.

For the last several attempts to give blood, I'd get through the questionnaire, then the screening and would finally sit down to have the blood drop test...

And I'd fail the blood drop test.

Because I don't have enough iron in my blood.

Because I have anemia--it goes hand in hand with pre-diabetes.

In fact, at one of our last conventions, a friend turned to me and said, "Go eat. Go eat now. I've never seen anyone that pale live."

And--as dreamily as the character I've just written--I went, "Hah. Food. Yeah. That's an amazing idea. How do I do that?"

It's not the first time it's happened. Another friend remembers when I took the red-eye to New York and got stuck on a shuttle when the President was in Pennsylvania. I was sick and pale and exhausted by the time I got to the hotel and I couldn't concentrate for shit. I also couldn't stop babbling. Blood sugar drops and anemia--not a happy combo.

These are things I know happen to me, but until just right now? I never actually connected with a thing that I have.
So, interestingly enough, me and Sammy, we have some similar experiences. Isn't it funny the things you learn. (P.S. If anybody wants to come to my house and make me a health drink every morning, I'd be so grateful. I understand they're amazing. Alas, I have no Cooper who is so inclined.)

So... I've rather tamed the writing dragon in recent years--he was bad for my health, frankly. If I sat too long one thing would hurt, then another and then another--our bodies aren't made to do that and it's not good for them.

But that doesn't mean I don't have times when my work is my blessing.

This week I've been writing like a madwoman--and I could work for ten hours a day and not catch up. But I'm HAPPY in my work, and it's not a hardship, and that doesn't happen often and to everybody, so I'm grateful.

Anyway--

I made corned beef and cabbage tonight because the family loves it and Mate is going to see a basketball game tomorrow so it had to be tonight. I'm gearing up and practicing-- myself, Kim Fielding, J. Scott Coatsworth and DL Kent will be reading at the Lavender Library in Sacramento this Sunday at 5p.m.-- and damn, I need to bring cookies for that!

And I've been proofing Quickening Part 2, and writing my blog tour for Bonfires.

And of course, talking to the kids and my husband.

So, sort of a boring day, but I do have two gems from the kids.

-- The first one is a riddle from ZoomBoy: What do you get when you pour jello into a sandwich shaped box? A mould-e sandwich!

--The next one was a conversation on the way from school. In the past, we've given the kids presents on St. Patrick's day, because we're helpless victims of consumerism and making our children happy with useless pieces of plastic, that's why.

But they're getting a little old for that. Seriously. Squish is going to be 11.

So when I realized I hadn't gotten them anything for St. Patrick's Day, I just owned it. "Uh, guys? Maybe the leprechaun won't come to our house this year, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because mommy didn't go shopping today?"

Squish snorted. "You need a better story than that. Maybe someone stole his pot of gold."

Thursday, March 16, 2017

First of all, Newt-Dewey demolishes the house every morning while we sleep. Dust bunnies? Moths? Tiny motes of sunlight?

Who cares. He sounds like a thundering herd of wildebeests and it's HYSTERICAL. Especially when we call him Honeyface as he's doing it.

Next? I am apparently up for an INDIEFAB in the romance category for Selfie. I've got some great company-- Kim Fielding, Rick R. Reed, both of whom are regulars on Kermit Flail, and I am SO PROUD to be on that list :-)

Also? I'm having a "RELEASE THE HOUNDS OF GLUTTONY" sort of diet day. I've been so good, and it's that, uh, time of the year for me, and today? Apparently all the restraints came off and I'm gong to eat everything. It's a good thing the only chocolate in the house was in Klondike Bar form, or I would have taken out anyone who got in my way.

And... I just wrote "taken out a truckload of whores" as I was sleep typing my blog. I'm sure there is something else to add, but dudes... I think that line says it all.

I'm going to go get some sleep now, and wonder if the truckload of whores are Johnnies guys, and if they're having sweet dreams all.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Hmmm... so much good stuff, so little time. First of all, I apologize to anyone if you get a double dose of something between FB and Twitter--I do try to add to the sound bites in the blog, but, yeah, one person living a very average life does not much blog fodder generate.

But jeez can I talk about not much at all!

So...

* I hope you all like the new look. Someone complained about the old background, and while it was nicely branded, I couldn't get the tiles to NOT tile on the phone display and it was apparently driving some people batshit. This looks a little cleaner, and that's nice. The picture was one I took of the yarn truck--go me!

* Yes, I HAVE taken to walking at the nearby park in an effort to avoid the Crazy Twat of the previous blog post. On the one hand, I feel a little cowardly-- see Amy run. On the other hand, I feel a little mature-- see Amy not provoke a confrontation, not be a white trash scotswoman with an axe, and not risk said Crazy Twat getting her gun, because she seemed like gun people and she was NOT rational. So I'm going to go with "mature" and enjoy the park and hope I can get in longer walks by using the novelty value of walking someplace new.

* Speaking of longer walks... I may have mentioned that the walkways of the park leave the park and go through residential neighborhoods. So, I did this, left the park and came out in a neighborhood, and I thought that the road that connected with the one in front of the park was just a little way off. Well, a little way off, I was lost. I could either retrace my steps or I could keep going. So I pulled out my phone with every intention of asking it where the fuck am I, and it gave me the route to my parked car--and the distance, .8 miles.

I've never been so impressed with my phone.

* ZoomBoy saw a YouTube video about whales and ambergris. SOUNDS tame, but from now on I think we won't be calling the dogs "assholes". Instead, we'll be calling them "festering butt pearls." Because it sounds more like them I guess? And because ZoomBoy is right--SOUNDS hilarious.

* Demonstrating the family's natural sarcasm, we have Squish.

"So, Squish, how do you want your hair today?"
"Well, we have a braid, a braid, a ponytail, a ponytail WITH a braid, a half braid, and a braid."

"Don't forget the sarcasm for product. So which one will you be going with?"

"I'll go with 'and braid'."

"Excellent choice!"

* We took Steve to the vets today. The fun part was picking her up. They always tell us, "Now first give her some water,then, if she keeps that down, you can give her a teeny bit of soft food, and then, if she keeps that down, you can feed her all the way."

I was laughing before she was done with the sentence. "Okay, so last time I was totally going to do this. Then we opened the carrier, she leapt up on the kitchen table, bullied the cat down who was already there, and ate all his food. Then she knocked the bowl over and bitched loudly for more for the next half hour before I fed her again. I, uh, think she does okay out of the anesthetic."
Indeed.

* Speaking of Squishy, she reorganized the books on the end table--she did such a job, she even checked to make sure their spines were all sticking the same way. So much like her father--makes me proud.

* Also, Geoffie got groomed today and they used some sort of vanilla scented shampoo on her. So she got back and not only was she the world's cutest dog, SHE SMELLED LIKE COOKIES!!!

I was literally at her mercy--that dog could do anything.

And then a reader (Jason--you know who you are!) suggested that maybe I kept the little dog beard because it helped her look like Mate.

Monday, March 13, 2017

A Few Questions More...A few weeks ago, I interviewed Damon Suede about his new book, Lickety Split-- the full review can be found HERE at Prism Book Alliance. Now, because I'm me--and because he's Damon-- we sort of spilled over the word count, and there were a few more things to say. I'm blessed, because Damon let me post them on my blog. So without any further ado, I bring you a few deleted scenes from our earlier interview:

So, Damon--Tucker was a sexy hunk of sand-paper-palmed, swaggering, lusty cowboy--who didn’t actually think of himself as “gay” or “bi” or any of the sexuality labels currently used. Do you think there are a lot of “Tuckers” out there? Guys who don’t mind doing “stuff” as long as it’s consenting adults but who don’t actually have the words to articulate what they’re doing? (I have a theory about this, about how language sometimes hinders the full realization of our own identities, but it’s long winded and boring.)
One of the persistent myths and pop culture is that small towns are more conservative than big cities. Sometimes that's true, but you'd be surprised. Countryfolk are practical in ways that can peel paint and wake snakes. LOL There's a reason rural areas thrive on gossip and scandal. Folks out in the sticks get bored, so fighting and fucking become a kind of live-action Opera that everyone can afford to watch and anyone can take part in.

In a very real sense, that kind of rough edge, homegrown sexiness is the seed from which this whole book grew. That shit's hot, yo. I'd much rather read about people connecting in unexpected and fascinating ways and waste time on greasy, waxed bodybuilders standing around in unscuffed boots pretending to be cowboys. Real emotion is really moving and I'd always rather get inside if I can, to split the piñata and knock the candy all over the floor where we can get at it. Lickety Split needed that grit to work the way I wanted it to.

Tucker’s horse, Nugget-- I have to admit, as much as I admire horses and horsemen and women, I was sort of the victim of an equine vendetta as a child. Tucker loved that animal. How do you feel about horses? Love? Hate? Admire from afar? Would you write a scene with Patch and Tucker riding together if you had time?

I’d totally write Patch and Tucker riding together, but for this book, with all the other threads taking the time just didn’t feel relevant or right. When I decided I wanted to write a cowboy book obviously the first thing I thought was, "Well, what about the damn horses?" I didn't want to write a book set on ranch; it felt wrong for these characters and for that part of Texas besides. The farm needed to raise hay for so many reasons, but I knew Tucker would keep his old mare close by. Nugget was the name of my quarter horse growing up and she had been trained to cut cattle... You could turn her like a car, like a knife. She was amazing, light chestnut with a white blaze and sweet as butter. And so I gave her to Tucker because I knew he take care of her.

I grew up riding. My family raised Tennessee walkers and quarter horses. They went to shows, rodeos, and auctions all the time. It's not really my scene, or at least it wasn't after I hit puberty and I started working in show business pretty regularly, but I love to ride and the smell of hay and horseshit still seems wholesome to me in a funny way that takes me back to the ranch.

Actually Botchy, the battlescarred pitbull, is also real and from our ranch. She’s a big slobbery sweetheart who really does climb up on roofs and patrol the property like a jolly bandit. Champagne coat and pink scars that don’t seem to bug her in the least. Again, I knew Tucker would know how to take care of her.

I have to admit, I fell in love with Botchy. I’ve made out with pitbulls before, and they’ve always been attentive and kind and have never let me feel like I was being used in the least. Botchy was the kind of dog who would break fancy vases with her tail--I adored her as a character.

Speaking of amazing supporting characters, tell me about Janet. She was a wonderful supporting character--a “haven” character, a “sage”-- Is she based on someone you know or is she based on someone you think every young person should have in their life? (Or is she a person needed for the narrative--and that’s a perfectly legitimate answer too.)

Well, Janet Rodman is very much real and very much one of my favorite people in Romancelandia. She's smart and sassy and hilarious as I wrote her, and if even half of her charisma comes across I consider myself fortunate. Part of Patch's homecoming had to be about his iffy memories. Not everyone is evil, even when it seems so. I knew that there are allies in every community and I wanted him to have a safe space. A teacher, a raucous irreverent teacher seemed like the ideal person to extend a hand to a kid that trapped by his surroundings. Janet was a teacher for many many years and she has an uncanny ability to cut through BS with her wit and warmth. When I first mentioned I was thinking about making her a secondary character in a book she had only one thing to say, "It better be fucking dirty." And it is.

The truth is when I first thought of including her I had no idea how pivotal she would become to the course of the story and how much the real Janet would inspire the lady on the page. The fictional Janet was me trying to capture the real Janet for everyone who's never met her. Ironically, she only read the book after it was finished, but between you me and the rest of the world, I feel like all I did was give her an East Texas accent.I have actually met Janet Rodman, and she's wonderful. You did her proud--I'm so tickled to know this! Thanks so much for stopping by, Mr. Suede--as always, it's been a pleasure.

___________

Bio: Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. Though new to romance fiction, Damon has been writing for print, stage, and screen for two decades. He’s won some awards, but counts his blessings more often: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year. Get in touch with him at DamonSuede.com.

Patch Hastle grew up in a hurry, ditching East Texas for NYC to make his name as a DJ and model without ever looking back. When his parents die unexpectedly, he heads home to unload the family farm ASAP and skedaddle. Except the will left Patch’s worst enemy in charge: his father’s handsome best friend who made his high school years hell.

Tucker Biggs is going nowhere. Twenty years past his rodeo days, he’s put down roots as the caretaker of the Hastle farm. He knows his buddy’s smartass son still hates his guts, but when Patch shows up growed-up, looking like sin in tight denim, Tucker turns his homecoming into a lesson about old dogs and new kinks.

Patch and Tucker fool around, but they can’t fool themselves. Once the farm’s sold, they mean to call it quits and head off to separate sunsets. With the clock ticking, the city slicker and his down-home hick get roped into each other’s life. If they’re gonna last longer than spit on a griddle, they better figure out what matters—fast.

This morning I posted a semi-facetious sally about all the things I had to do today and 140 characters weren't enough--

Wine we didn't ultimately buy.

Walk the dogs, start a blog tour, work on a novel, go grocery shopping, shop for ZoomBoy's science experiment, get new prescription sunglasses since the last ones fell apart, go out on a date with Mate including dinner and a movie, come home, blog, work on the novel and go to sleep.

I have to say, the only thing I didn't get done was that second part about working on the novel.

For the record?

The sunglasses are so welcome, walking the dogs in the park is a welcome change from my neighborhood, ZoomBoy's model of potassium looks wonderful and strangely Christmassy, McCormick and Schmick's steakhouse is SUPER DOOPER overrated both in service and meal, I sent in my first day for the blog tour, we went grocery shopping and remembered to buy corned beef, and the novel is proceeding apace, but is still over deadline.

Zoom boy's Christmas colored craft barf.

And a friend assured me that it's a good thing we didn't buy the pretty wine--it's apparently the Everclear of Chardonnay.

And I think I'm ready for my bed now!

OH! But before I go!

DON'T FORGET!

Damon Suede's book, Lickety Splitgoes on sale tomorrow, and I have A SHORT, EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW SNIPPET RIGHT HERE ON MY BLOG! It'll go up tomorrow morning!

About Me

I am creative, distracted, and terribly weird. I love my children to distraction, and I love my hobbies even when they piss me off. I come from a double line of extremely creative, intelligent people who hated authority so much they dodged higher education, and I married a wonderful man who is quiet, conservative, devestatingly funny, and perfect. Our children are constant reminders that God and Goddess have a profound sense of humor, and that all of the things you dislike most about yourself but pretend don't exist really do come back on the karmic wheel to kick your ass when you least expect it. My family keeps me young and humble and I try every day to make them proud. I've written a LOT of books--I can't even count anymore, most of them for Dreamspinner Press and Riptide Press, but some of them published on my own. I write to placate the voices in my head, profanity is the element I swim in, and knitting socks at stoplights has become my twitch.

Quickening

The Fifth Book of the Little Goddess series will be out in two parts, May 2nd and June 16th.

*Kermit Flail*

If you would like to submit a new release for *Kermit Flail* Monday, simply e-mail me at amylane@greenshill.com with your title, .jpg cover attachment, blurb, and buy link. It helps if I know you-- I'll say sweet things about you-- but even if I don't, I'm happy to put you up on the *Flail*.